A Contract Marriage With My Nemesis
My fiancé always told me he loved me. But not long after our engagement, I woke up suffocating in the dark.
He was pressing a pillow over my face, his eyes cold and dead, while my half-sister stood by watching with fake pity.
They had orchestrated everything just to steal my trust fund.
It all started with a massive hotel scandal. They had drugged me, thrown a cheap escort into my bed, and brought a mob of paparazzi to ruin my reputation.
When my fiancé broke through the crowd, playing the heartbroken victim, he knelt down with a massive diamond ring.
"I know things have been hard, but I love you. If you come home with me, I will forgive all of this."
In my past life, I cried tears of gratitude and let him slide that ring onto my finger.
That ring sealed my death warrant. I lost my company, my dignity, and eventually, my life.
Until my lungs burned and my heart stopped, I didn't understand.
How could the people I trusted most plot my murder so ruthlessly?
Why did they have to tear my entire life apart?
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the morning of the hotel scandal, exactly one year ago.
But the man lying bare-backed in my bed wasn't a random escort.
It was Johnathan Chase, my family's biggest corporate rival and the most ruthless predator on Wall Street.
Listening to the paparazzi pounding on the door, I smiled coldly.
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Chapter 2
Elena ducked under Johnathan's arm, slipping out of his trap before he could react. She walked quickly toward the entryway of the suite, her bare feet making no sound on the carpet.
She pressed her eye against the small brass peephole in the heavy door.
The hallway outside was packed. A sea of black camera lenses and blinding flashbulbs crowded the corridor. Standing right at the front of the mob was her half-sister, Haylee. Haylee's hands were pressed to her cheeks, her face twisted into a mask of exaggerated, frantic worry.
A cold sweat broke out on the back of Elena's neck as the memory of her past life threatened to choke her. The panic she had felt a year ago flashed in her mind, but it was instantly swallowed by a dark, bitter amusement. A cold smile curved the corners of her mouth.
Johnathan walked slowly toward the wet bar in the living area. He picked up a crystal glass, dropped a single ice cube into it, and poured a splash of water. He leaned against the marble counter, watching her with a detached, cynical expression.
He took a sip of the ice water. "Looks like your fiancé's little trick worked," he said, his tone dripping with mockery.
Elena turned around. She leaned her back flat against the door, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her eyes were sharp and lethal as they locked onto him.
"If that door opens, the stock price of Chase Capital takes a hit right alongside mine," she stated, her voice perfectly steady.
Johnathan lowered the glass. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his dark eyes, quickly replaced by a glint of appreciation for her ruthless logic.
The pounding on the door grew louder, more frantic.
"Open the door! Hotel management!" a muffled voice shouted from the hallway. The metallic scrape of a master key sliding into the lock echoed in the quiet suite.
Elena's eyes darted around the room. The floor was still littered with evidence.
She moved fast. She walked over to the scattered pile of her lace underwear, kicked them forcefully under the heavy velvet sofa, and kicked Johnathan's discarded tie under the armchair.
A sharp click sounded from the door. The heavy brass handle turned.
The door was shoved open violently from the outside.
A blinding wall of white light exploded into the dim room. The rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters sounded like a machine gun going off, capturing every inch of the scene.
Haylee pushed her way to the front, her hands flying to her mouth. She let out a loud, theatrical gasp that echoed over the clicking cameras.
Darron shoved past the reporters right behind her. His face was a carefully constructed masterpiece of devastation and boiling anger. His chest heaved as he stared at the room.
Elena stood dead center in the living room. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted. She looked down at the invading crowd with the cold, detached superiority of a queen looking at peasants.
Darron marched toward her, his eyes wide with fake heartbreak. He reached out, his hands aiming for her shoulders to play the role of the betrayed, desperate lover.
Elena felt a wave of physical revulsion hit her stomach. She stepped sharply to the side, dodging his grasp completely.
Darron's hands grabbed empty air. He stumbled slightly, looking foolish.
Haylee's eyes widened in genuine shock. She hadn't expected Elena to reject Darron's touch. Elena was supposed to be crying, begging for forgiveness.
The paparazzi immediately shifted their lenses, capturing Darron's awkward, empty hands and Elena's icy glare.
From the shadows of the bedroom hallway, Johnathan stepped into the light. He had pulled on a dark silk robe, but it hung open, clearly displaying the angry red scratches trailing across his chest and stomach, as well as the faint red lines peeking out from the edge of the robe where they continued onto his back.
The entire room stopped breathing. The frantic clicking of the cameras died for one stunned second. The paparazzi stared in absolute shock. The man in the room wasn't some random male model. It was Johnathan Chase.
Darron's face drained of color, turning a sickly shade of gray. His jaw dropped. He had paid the hotel staff to drug her and put a random escort in the room.
Johnathan stood tall, his presence suffocating the room. The sheer weight of his dark, menacing aura made the reporters in the front row take a subconscious step backward.
He walked slowly to stand beside Elena. He looked down at Darron, a dangerous, mocking light flickering in his eyes.
"Did you really think your pathetic little payoff to the hotel manager would go unnoticed?" Johnathan asked, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that commanded the entire room. He took a deliberate step forward, his sheer size dwarfing the smaller man. "I bought the manager out double, fired your cheap escort, and took the keycard myself. So, care to explain why you're breaking into my room, Darron?"
Darron swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He forced his fists to clench, trying to regain control of the narrative. "You destroyed my relationship!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly.
Haylee saw the cameras starting to focus on Johnathan. She quickly stepped into the light, squeezing a few tears from her eyes. "Elena, how could you do this? How could you make such a horrible mistake?" she sobbed for the press.
Elena looked at Haylee's fake tears. A sneer of pure, unfiltered disgust twisted her lips.
She cleared her throat.
"Shut up," Elena commanded. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp as a razor blade, cutting through the noise and freezing everyone in their tracks.
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7.2
Clara's husband of three years walked into their penthouse with two lawyers.
He threw a divorce agreement on the table, demanding she sign away all her assets. If she refused, he would bankrupt her family and send her mother to federal prison.
He did it all for his new girlfriend, Corinne. After stripping Clara of everything, Kane stood by while Corinne publicly humiliated her, stepping on her fingers and mocking her misery. When Kane suspected Clara might be pregnant, he dragged her to a private clinic. He forced her onto an examination table and ordered a deeply invasive medical check-up, treating her like absolute garbage just to ensure she wasn't carrying his heir.
Lying on the cold medical bed in a thin paper gown, Clara's heart completely shattered. She didn't understand how the man who once promised her forever could turn into such a ruthless monster. She was indeed pregnant, but she knew if he found out, he would steal her baby and destroy her completely.
With the help of a tech-genius friend, Clara faked a negative test result and escaped his clutches. The next day, she walked into their company, threw a bold "I QUIT" note right in the mistress's face, and walked away. Touching her belly, Clara swore she would return to make them pay for every single thing they had done.
9.3
My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family.
Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb.
When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump.
"You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly.
To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding.
I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded.
But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot.
When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony.
Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number.
"You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.
9.3
Are you tired of every hockey romance turning into pure erotica by chapter ten?
We are going back to basics.
This is about the tension. The secrets. The stolen glances across a crowded campus, the brush of a bare hand in a freezing ice rink, and the dangerous boy who would burn the world down just to keep her safe.
Caroline Reed is invisible by choice. As a pre-law student fighting to maintain a flawless 4.50 GPA, she hides in the shadows of the university athletics department. She analyzes sports compliance data just to keep her scholarship intact. Her life is perfectly ordered and perfectly safe.
Leo Kincaid is the untouchable hockey captain. He is ruthless on the ice and completely guarded off it. Everyone thinks he is just another arrogant, golden boy athlete.
But the numbers do not lie. When Caroline reviews the latest game footage, she finds a terrifying statistical pattern. Leo is intentionally taking penalties and throwing specific plays.
When she confronts him in the dead of night at the empty arena, she expects a confession of greed. Instead, she uncovers a dangerous underground betting ring that is blackmailing him. By speaking up, Caroline has just put a massive target on her own back.
Now, the only way Leo can protect her is to pull her directly into his spotlight. He forces her into his daily life under the guise of needing a personal academic manager. Suddenly, the invisible girl is everywhere he is. He watches her constantly. He fiercely dictates who she talks to. And in the quiet, frozen moments between the chaos, Caroline begins to realize that the brutal captain is the safest place she could ever be.
9.8
I was an unwanted foster kid taken in by the Goodwin family, about to marry into the wealthy Cantu family to secure my adoptive father's power.
But at my rehearsal dinner, my adoptive mother drugged my champagne, intending to have me assaulted and ruined.
The next morning, my fiancé and my sister burst into my hotel room with a swarm of reporters, pointing fingers in manufactured horror.
"You filthy whore! The engagement is over!"
My fiancé roared for the cameras, while my sister sobbed about my betrayal. They had brought the press to publicly slaughter me, justifying their own secret affair while my adoptive family cursed me as a disgusting stray.
For years, I had endured their toxic abuse, only to be thrown to the wolves so my sister could steal my life. They truly believed I was just a helpless pawn they could crush and discard.
But they didn't know I had anticipated their trap and deliberately walked into the bed of Dorian Underwood—the ruthless billionaire and the only man the Cantu family actually feared.
As I calmly hit 'send' to broadcast my fiancé's explicit sex tape to every reporter in the hallway, I met Dorian's dark, predatory gaze.
I wasn't just surviving anymore; I was going to tear both their empires to the ground.